Stay
by Betty BOKOR
Summary: SamDaniel. The team has to face a new enemy and Sam and Daniel are preparing for the challenge, but, first, they have to deal with their own issues.


**Stay **by Betty Bokor  
Sam/Daniel. The team has to face a new enemy and Sam and Daniel are preparing for the challenge, but, first, they have to deal with their own issues.**  
**Spoilers: all seasons of SG-1 and Atlantis, including the movies.  
Disclaimer: The Stargate original characters belong to MGM/Showtime, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Film Corp. This was written strictly for the purpose of entertainment. No attempt at copyright infringement has been made.

**Stay**

**Chapter 1**

**A.N.: This is the second of a few stories I am going to introduce this week and I will look at what kind of reception they get from the readers in order to decide which one to finish posting first, right after I am done with Memories of the Heart. They are all finished. I just need to choose what to post first. Thanks for reading!**

We're leaning against the veranda of my deck, gazing at the stars in silence. In less than three days we're going to face our enemy again. I really have trouble with why, whenever we defeat one foe, a worse one appears on the horizon.

In a way, it's our fault. Every time we expand our exploration of the universe, we risk finding someone who does not agree with our pacific journey. But, the Lost Tribe of the Asgard needs us for different reasons. We have an unlimited supply of experimentation subjects. They see us as their only way to salvation.

We've always seen the Asgard as our allies. To have an enemy born of their same ancestors is still disturbing.

I don't know if the ancient weapons we've relied on for the last years are going to work in this case. We're still working out the details of what we really have to deal with this time. The Asgard ─the good ones─ were allies of the Ancients. Maybe they shared more than we know.

I wish we could avoid a confrontation that could end in indiscriminate death, but I don't see many ways. Our enemy doesn't fear anyone, not even the Wraith, and they fervently believe that the end justifies any means.

Some days it still shocks me how accustomed I've become to death. Killing and dying. It sounds so strange when I say it, that I avoid thinking about it too often. All of us ─the four in the original team─ have died at least once. Since my own parents died, I haven't kept one strong belief in any particular religion, but I can say today that I firmly believe in the existence of something most would call the soul. This body we inhabit can die and be revived, we now know, but there's something indefinable, something indescribable, that persists even after death. We also know that ascension is not the last step in life; Ancients and Ori can die as well.

So, I have to cling to my faith in the immortality of the soul to keep my sanity among so much destruction.

It probably wouldn't surprise anyone that I'm not afraid of death. I've never been afraid of dying, but it cools the blood in my veins to think that someone I care about could die. It's not the death itself that troubles me; it's the fact that I've lost so many important people in my life, that I selfishly prefer to die than to lose someone else.

These days I'm terrified about losing Sam. Not long ago I thought I had, for the hundredth time. As she's standing by my side, I can feel her scent reaching me, so singular, so Sam's. I wish I could stretch out my hand and touch her, but I'm afraid it could startle her. The days before a battle are always hard.

I look at her. She's changed so much since the last time we were in the same team, that some days it's hard to recognize her. The Atlantis experience gave her even more confidence in her abilities as a commander, but to have to leave that post was very hard for her, even after they promoted her to General.

Sam sighs deeply and says, "I should be going."

We have avoided talking about our upcoming mission. We have spent the evening watching silly romantic comedies that Sam loves and laughing without any real reason, trying to forget that we could all, _all_, be dead by the weekend. But, since we came out here to enjoy the fresh breeze of this early fall night, all those dark thoughts have come back to our minds. I don't need Sam to tell me; I can read it in her eyes.

I don't want to think about it anymore; I don't want her to think either.

"Stay," I say very softly. She looks at me and tries to read the meaning of my words.

I've asked her to stay many times over these last eleven years and she has agreed often, especially in days of deep turmoil.

It doesn't matter where I'm living; I always plan a space in my home for my friends to stay. When you have lost everyone that matters, friends are the only wealth left.

Sam is still looking at me. She knows that this isn't the same invitation she's heard before. Probably it was the tone of my voice… or the emotion behind that simple word. Perhaps it was the look in my eyes that betrayed me.

I see her hesitation; I know this has never been in her plans. But we're alone here tonight; besides, we're lonely, and if we die this week, not many will miss us. I don't have any family anymore and Sam's is very small. Most the other people we care about would probably perish with us in this battle. Even Jack will be back with us for this.

"Why?" she suddenly asks and she takes me by surprise. There are so many reasons, but I don't know if I want her to know them all. I choose the most selfish.

"I don't want to be alone."

I could have said that I can't let _her_ be alone.

I could have said that I want to find a way to blow away the clouds that are hanging over her head as she prepares for the battle.

I could have said that I'm not trying to take Jack's place, though I believe he's lost that right, because he's the one who should be here tonight, holding her hand.

I could have said that there's no one more important for me than her, no one in this whole twisted universe we journey through every week.

I should tell her that I'm certain I've never loved anyone with this intensity or depth of feeling, such richness of emotion that sometimes threatens to smother me.

"It's dangerous," she tries, still looking directly into my eyes.

"What would change if we made love?" I dare put it into words.

It's not something I've just thought of; it's something that has always been there, between us. It's obvious to everyone else but to us, simply because we don't want to acknowledge it.

The greater good, the team, the military, universal peace… There are so many reasons not to do it, but there's one important reason to do it. We both want it; we need it.

In a perfect universe I'd still have Sha're and Sam would have found a man who could make her happy. I have trouble understanding what she's looking for; Jonas, Pete, and even Jack are one kind of man. Narim, Martouf, and Joe are different. I wish I knew which kind I really am in her eyes.

"It would change _us_," she replies.

"Is that bad?" I ask, praying that she understands what I mean.

"I don't know. All this time we've kept it at bay; why let it happen now?"

I feel relieved. She's felt it, too; it's not my imagination, but I can't push her.

Even if we both want it, it has to come naturally. I thought this was the time, but she's not there yet. Maybe she'll never be.

"You're right," I concede. Then, I gather all my strength and smile. There can't be hard feelings over this.

She doesn't answer. She stretches out her hand and holds mine.

I pull softly and hug her. "You're right, Sam, you're right. Why change what we have? It's good enough."

She probably knows I'm lying, but she doesn't say anything. She hugs me a little bit stronger and then she moves back. "If you let me have a bath in that fabulous tub of yours, I'll stay in the guestroom. I don't want to be alone either."

she smiles as I agree to her request. A few seconds later, she starts cleaning up the kitchen while I check that the main bathroom is not a mess. I get her new towels, the fluffiest robe I can find in the closet –Cassie's Christmas present– and a pair of my sweat pants with a T-shirt.

I start the bath and I light the candles on the edge. I usually light them when I need to relax, when I need to prepare for yet another battle. It's almost as if they help me come to terms with the fact that one of this days I'm going to really die and not come back. It's not the dying part that worries me; I already said that. It's not being there for my friends anymore.

I search for some scented soaps Sam has given me and I've never dared use. I submerge one in the water so that it looks used and I put it by the sink; then I leave a new one on the soap dish by the bathtub.

Lavender; it actually smells soothing.

Then, I go back downstairs, where she's finishing the dishes.

"Go, Sam. I'll be done in a minute with this. The bath is ready."

She gives me the dishtowel she has in her hand and she walks silently to the second floor.

I entertain myself in the den, putting everything back into place.

I don't want to be in my bedroom when she comes out. I want to give her more space than usual because tonight I intruded into her space with my request.

Finally I hear the bathroom door open and I know she's walking toward the guestroom.

As soon as her door closes, I go to my room and lye on the bed.

I don't want to think. I don't want to think about the battle. I don't want to think about what I asked from her. I don't want to think about what she replied.

Ah…

I cover my head with the pillow.

I don't want to think.


End file.
